


Seashell Resonance

by IxAjaw



Category: One Piece
Genre: Garp is mentioned but isn't really important, Gen, Pre-Canon, Voice of All Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2020-10-17 22:37:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20628674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IxAjaw/pseuds/IxAjaw
Summary: The sound of the 'ocean' that you hear when you hold a seashell up to your ear.The Voice of All Things isn't an ability Luffy just woke up with one day.





	1. Chapter 1

Before the sun rose, Makino had a habit of walking along the beach. It was a habit gained from restless childhood nights, when the distant sounds of tigers roaring kept her awake. Tigers would never walk next to the ocean, her mother said, and so it became her place to hide, out in the open, further away from the forest where anything could be hiding. When she took over Party’s Bar, she kept the doing so, even though by the end of the day she often wished she’d had the extra sleep. And even later, after Luffy crashed into her life like a bird flying in through the window, causing panic and chaos before flying away again, she would walk. It was if the entire world belonged to her and her alone, if only until the sun rose.

Luffy slept anytime, anywhere, like his grandfather, but the first time she tried to sneak out for her morning walk he had woken up. He demanded, in that excited childish way, to know where she was going, _was she going on an adventure before breakfast?_

It was kind of like an adventure, she supposed, but if she told him that, he would never lay back down. And he would find it disappointing. But once a child is awake, they do not calm themselves easily, and so Makino decided to nip this in the bud and take him along. Worst case scenario was him taking a nap later, which isn’t really a negative.

They actually started by heading in the direction of the forest, heading slightly out of town before taking a hard right past the charcoal-maker’s place. Luffy chatters about visiting them a few days before, and how he managed to get dirt and ash all over his face—as if Makino had forgotten washing that off—which should be annoying, but Luffy’s boundless energy was so sincere that she found herself giggling along with him. They quickly reached a short, oceanside cliff. Makino stopped to take a few deep breaths and stretched out her arms and back before carefully scaling down the sea-beaten rocks. While she called it a cliff, it wasn’t steep, at least not in the direction of the beach—some careful footwork got them to the sand.

Luffy launched himself off the last foot of rock into the sand, where he promptly slid and fell on his side. Before Makino’s face could even morph into proper concern, he pushed himself upright, spitting sand out of his mouth and twirling back around, announcing that he was alright. He had wet, gritty sand stuck to the right side of his face and tears in the corners of his eyes.

“Luffy, come here and I’ll wipe that off,” Makino said, pulling out a handkerchief.

Luffy walked toward her begrudgingly, pouting at his sandals. She started wiping his face, avoiding his eyes to maintain the illusion that she hadn’t noticed his tears, but let out a tiny gasp when she noticed his knee. Hard to see underneath the dark, clinging sand, he was bleeding.

“Did you land on a rock?” she asked, folding her handkerchief to find a clean spot before gently wiping his knee. “We’ll have to clean that properly when we get back.”

“’Kay,” he said. “And it wasn’t a rock.”

Makino cocked her head.

“It was a seashell!” he announced, pain forgotten. “Like, a big twisty one. With spikes on it. Not one of the flat ones.”

“Oh,” Makino said, “I suppose you landing on it broke it though, huh?”

“Nah,” he said, walking over to the skid mark he left on the beach. He knelt down, covering his injured knee with wet sand _again_, and unearthed a large, equally filthy conch shell. Unlike most shells, which tended toward being pink or orange-ish, this shell was predominately blue. Both the inside cavern and the tips of the spines had a green-turquoise tint. It was as if someone had plunged their hand into the ocean and grabbed a fist full of water, crushing it into a solid state.

How Luffy had managed to tell what he hit as he was eating sand was a mystery.

Luffy trotted over to the water, roughly dunking the shell into the water to rinse it off. He swiped halfheartedly at his knee on his way back, a less zealous attempt to clean off his wound. He presented the seashell to Makino with a big grin on his face.

Delicate fingers traced the ridge of the shell. While the odds of something still living in it were basically none, it never hurt to be cautious. She held the shell up next to her ear.

“What are you doing?” Luffy asked, head tilted like a puppy.

“Listening to the ocean,” she answered.

“But the ocean is right there…?”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” she said, “but if you find a seashell like this and listen to it, you can hear the ocean anytime, even if you’re nowhere near it.”

Luffy gasped and practically tried to climb up her skirt. “Let me hear! Let me hear!”

Makino gently pushed him back down—at this rate, he would knock her over on accident—and handed the shell to him. He held it against the side of his face with both hands, like someone icing their jaw, and after a moment his face squished into a look of confused disappointment.

“It doesn’t sound like the ocean,” he declared. “It sounds like… grandpa’s house.”

“Like grandpa’s house?” she asked.

“Yeah. Like, the house knows that someone used to live there and now they don’t. I guess it’s a sad sound? But houses don’t get sad. They just get empty.”

It’s said as if it was an absolute. The sun will rise. The waves will crash. Humans will dream. Houses _don’t_ get sad.

Maybe Makino was more tired than she thought.

“Then I suppose seashells don’t get sad either, do they?” she asked. What else was there to say?

Luffy looked up at her with wide eyes. “Yeah they do! Seashells aren’t like houses.”

“I think they are. Most seashells are formed by mollusks. The mollusk lives in the shell. It’s a sea-creature house.”

Makino couldn’t help but grin at the look on Luffy’s face. It seemed that he understood most of her explanation but couldn’t decide what to do with that information.

“We’ve been stealing fish houses?!” he settled on.

And that was how Makino laughed so hard she fell onto the sand and ruined her skirt. She wasn't mad about it, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to learn more about the Voice of All Things, but there's so much going on in the manga right now...


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resonance: the quality in a sound of being deep, full, and reverberating.

Shanks has been around the world, alright? He’s seen everything in this world worth seeing. Ninety percent of things worth seeing were also worth drinking, in his opinion, but Benn sighed extra hard when he said stuff like that. It was always a bit funny; sometimes Shanks would make him do it on purpose.

So while maybe no-name, out-of-the-way villages in the East Blue were not really _worth_ seeing, in the sense that you’d never go out of your way to see them, it wasn’t to say he avoided them. That tiny, egotistical part of him thought everyone and everywhere deserved a little bit of the red-hair experience. The world at large wasn’t much different than the bottom of the ocean: cold, dark, and inhospitable to anything but the toughest of creatures. More reason to drink and party whenever and wherever you can.

His men sometimes complained that small towns were boring to visit, but Shanks preferred the relative solitude. Hypocritical of a pirate, he supposed, who lived aboard a ship full of people he couldn’t get away from, but large port towns were just the worst. They were huge and rowdy, but not any fun.

All these things he thought about as he disembarked from his ship to explore this overgrown island. The streets were empty; not uncommon for places unused to pirates, when they arrived. Some towns got up in arms instead, but East Blue tended not to. They just hid in their homes or quietly ran for the hills. He didn’t blame them.

His first instinct, of course, was to find a bar, and he granted Lucky Roux and Yasopp the honor of seeking one. But Shanks’ attention was taken down the beach, just out of sight, where his Observation Haki found a small child, injured and all alone. He tipped his hat back as he looked in that direction, a silent statement about where he would be if they needed to leave in a hurry. Benn did that funny extra-hard sigh and Shanks went on his adventure.

While the kid was hurt, he didn’t seem to be in danger, per se, so Shanks didn’t run to the kid. But he soon came across a small boy with a mop of black hair surrounded by crabs. A lot of crabs. Enough crabs to prevent Shanks from being able to walk any further down the beach, kind of crabs.

While Shanks has seen weirder things in his life, he would admit that this made him pause. Was this kid some sort of crab god? Was this just a regular thing? Should he interrupt?

The kid, who wore a t-shirt with a picture of an anchor on it along with the word, ‘anchor’—just in case he couldn’t figure out what it was—had an armful of seashells. He spun around and glowered at the crowd.

“No! These are mine! You can’t have them! I’m giving these to my friends, so get away from me!”

The kid didn’t seem to notice him. Shanks pulled his sword from its sheath and gently dug the tip into the beach. With a flick, he created a wave of sand between the child and the nearby tree line, either flinging or burying the crabs in the way of the kid’s escape. After the wave unceremoniously fell the kid opened one squinting eye at him, his face baffled.

“Hey anchor-kid,” Shanks said, “Get out of there before the crabs get you!”

The boy blinked. Shanks grinned, but it was subdued, for him. Not the normal, cheerful, red-hair experience.

“Who are you? What—” the kid started, but a crab suddenly clamped onto his toe. The kid jumped, yelled, and started hobbling his way to the tree line. The crabs followed in eerie, perfectly aligned choreography.

“Well,” Shanks said, “Okay. Hmm.”

At first Shanks tried to flip nearby crabs back into the ocean with his sword, like he was flinging erasers with a pencil. Too tedious. He considered using a bit of Haki, but the amount needed to hit the whole crowd would kill the crabs, not to mention hit the kid.

Creating a much taller wave of sand, Shanks closed his eyes and dashed through it, scooping the limping child in one arm, and leapt through the bushes into the forest. Leaves shred to bits beneath his feet, and Shanks plunged his sword into the ground to slow his momentum. Instead, it pierced the dirt and gnarled tree roots like a fish through water. Shanks then twisted himself around so that his raised foot could collide with a thick tree, stopping them with a lurch. The bark crunched under the ball of his foot and the whole world swayed dangerously. Once it stopped the only sound left was the rustling of the falling leaf-confetti over them.

Shanks breathed before sheathing his sword and used both hands to gently set the boy on the ground. Anchor-kid continued to hop, crab still attached. He’d have a lot more success if he’d drop the shells, Shanks thought. He rubbed at his face, not wanting to get sand in his eyes, and spat a couple times to get it out of his mouth. The sensations were nostalgic in the worst kind of way. The only thing missing was Captain Roger or Rayleigh standing above him, overshadowing him, laughing at how they could make him eat dirt. Those were some of his fondest memories.

Somehow, after their retirement, they made him feel more inferior than he ever had as a cabin boy.

What made him feel better was seeing the anchor-boy slip and fall on his ass, throwing his seashell hoard into the air. Shanks caught the pretty blue one in one hand and guffawed openly when the rest of them pummeled the kid on the way down.

“Owww—hey! Stop laughing!”

Shanks took pity on the poor kid and bent down, peeling the pincher off his scratched-up foot and throwing the crab back toward the beach. “Anchor, I don’t know what you did to piss off those crabs, but it’s kind of hilarious. What’s with the shells?”

“These?” Anchor asked as he started to pick them back up, “I’m giving them to my friends.”

“I got that. But I think they’d be more worried about you being attacked, or uh, held hostage by animals like that, wouldn’t they?”

“Makino would worry,” Anchor agreed. “Can you help me carry these? My name is Luffy, mister! Who’re you?”

“I’m Shanks,” he said as he obligingly allowed all the seashells to be piled into his arms.

The boy—Luffy—chattered as they walked. He talked about a young woman named Makino, who ran the only bar in town, and how a local old lady twisted her ankle and couldn’t go out and pick berries to make jam lately. It went well in a “sharker-tree board”, whatever that was, because it went on slices of meat. The kid described how more crabs kept showing up every time he picked up another shell until he was surrounded by them, unable to walk back home, and how he was totally planning to hop on the crabs’ heads to skip his way back home before Shanks had arrived. Which Shanks believed—that he would have tried, that is.

No kid in the history of the world has ever been an engaging conversationalist, which was one reason Shanks would never allow them on his ship. As they walked, he zoned out and admired the strangely colored conch shell in his hand.

It reminded him of something his captain had shown him once: a delicate jade instrument carved into a very similar shape. The locals had called it the Holy Seacarina. One spine had been slightly longer, which the player blew air into. Notes were changed by twisting a dial, which had been designed to look like the spinier, twisted end of the shell. Being pointy and all, it seemed to Shanks that it would be unpleasant to play, but Rayleigh told him that the locals would carve them to fit their hands perfectly. Pricking one’s hand was a sign that one was unworthy of the instrument.

Practicality didn’t really matter, since their use was mostly ceremonial, anyway. But the sound it made; unearthly, in a word, but Shanks could never describe it in a way he would be satisfied with. He was a pirate, not a poet. For such a petit and fragile instrument, the sound it made was deep and far-reaching, like a whalesong, and it burrowed into the crevices between his bones, his ribs, squeezing the air out of him. He hadn’t breathed at all while Rouge had played it for them and had nearly fallen over when she handed the precious thing to his lovable but brutish captain.

His captain had handled it with a startling amount of reverence, supporting it with the tips of his fingers. He lifted it above his head to look at it, instead of turning it over, and he eyed it intensely. The light reflected off his moustache in a way that made his dark hair look white, like a much older, wiser man. He stared for a long time, probably spending more time thinking about that jade shell than he had during the rest of his pirate career. They knew he had come to a decision when he grinned that trademark, fearless grin. And he refused.

His captain was a complex man like that, sometimes. Instead of taking the incredibly valuable instrument, he gave it back to Rouge and told her he didn’t want it; instead, he wanted her to come up with a song for him to listen to when he returned. Shanks and the rest of the crew were as baffled as Rouge at this declaration, but his captain’s word was a natural law that everyone, even their enemies, obeyed. They boarded the ship immediately, and the captain ignored Buggy’s wailing and Rayleigh’s indecipherable look.

Once, after some time had passed, Shanks had been sitting on the deck railing of the Oro Jackson with Captain Roger, taking turns drinking out of a bottle of pirate’s holy water from the South Blue. The sky and ocean blended into each other with shimmering yellows and oranges, without beginning, end, or purpose. Just the way Shanks liked it. It wasn’t like his captain to be quiet, though. Later he wondered if Captain Roger was looking inward instead of forward.

“Captain. Do you ever try to imagine the song Rouge will play for you, when you see her again?”

Shanks had, even if he’d been uncertain whether he’d be there when the song was played. There was a lot he had been uncertain of, in those days.

His captain had turned his head and stared at him. Into him. _Through_ him. His captain always knew the truth.

“No,” he said. “I could, but I want to be surprised.”

“Oh,” Shanks had said. His captain then finished off the bottle, pat him on the head, and left.

Back in the present, Luffy had come to a stop. Shanks was surprised to see that they hadn’t ended up in town, but rather were deeper in the forest.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“Trying to find my friends! Living out in the woods sucks. It’s hard to tell where you’re going. Everything looks the same.”

“Sounds like you know that from experience.”

“Yeah. Grandpa likes to drop me off in the woods to fend for myself, sometimes. I hate it. It’s too hot and too cold and the animals are mean.”

“You live with your grandpa, then?”

“No, I live with Makino. Grandpa doesn’t live here most of the time. And when he is here, he makes me train and I don’t see him for a lot of it sometimes. But it’s okay, that’s where I met these guys!”

With a mighty push, Luffy tipped over a rock where a couple of horned beetles were hiding. One escaped, but Luffy caught the straggler in a cage of chubby fingers.

“These guys are the best! They live in rocks and dead trees and stuff. So I thought, since the fish don’t need them anymore, I’ll give them the seashell-houses. Makino said a pretty house is a nice house to live in.”

Luffy then grabbed a seashell out of Shanks’ arms and tried to shove the beetle in it. It didn’t fit. Pouting, the kid put the shell down and tried for another.

“That’s sweet of you, kiddo,” Shanks said, “But with those big horns, I don’t think these are the right shape for them. They won’t fit.”

The boy looked up at him in confusion. Then his face sagged, and he sat the beetle down, which immediately fled. He flopped onto the ground, placing the shell he was holding next to the first. Shanks followed his example, though more gracefully, leaving all the shells in a pile. Luffy sat with his hands in his lap, rubbing his thumb back and forth across his other hand, eyes half-lidded and staring at his useless hoard. Shanks quietly passed the time by picking leaf bits off his hat and out of his hair. The trees murmured in the wind around them, ever-chatty gossips.

“…look, I know it’s upsetting when—”

“I’m not upset,” Luffy said. Shanks side-eyed him.

“It’s okay that the beetles don’t need the seashells,” he said in a soft voice, “but the seashells are sad. I wanted them to be happy, too.”

The kid leaned forward, grabbing the blue-green seashell, and lifted it toward Shanks’ face.

“Doesn’t it sound sad?”

There was a tiny, hopeful part of him almost expected it to sound like the Holy Seacarina, deep and reverberating into his soul. It sounded like bottled rushing air instead, distant and hollow. Sound without substance, Benn would say. Disappointment coated Shanks’ tongue like many a hangover, and he swallowed it down, clearing his throat.

“The only thing that sounds sad around here is you, kid,” he said, pulling the shell away from his ear, “but there’s lots of different kinds of sad in the world. And some never get better, like when you know you’re never going to see a friend again.”

Luffy looked up at him with big eyes. “So… if someone leaves, then you’ll be sad forever? Like these seashells? The fish who made all of them left.”

“Maybe,” he said. “It depends. Sometimes you can wrap up everything you need to before you part, sometimes you can’t. Either way, you have to find a way to live with it.”

“Mm,” Luffy said, chewing on his bottom lip. “I don’t like it. I’m gonna keep all my friends close to me.”

“You can’t,” Shanks said with a sharp chuckle, “people have been trying to figure out how to do that for ages. It can’t be done.”

“Then I’ll be the first!”

Shanks laughed. His chest felt tight. “What if your friends want to sail a different sea than you? Or walk a different path? Are you going to keep them away from their dreams, other friends, and family just to keep them with you every day?”

“Yes! If we’re all together, then we’ll definitely be happy! I won’t keep them from their dreams, I’ll help them! Just because grandpa doesn’t want me around doesn’t mean I’m useless!”

Shanks blew air out of his nose, and with it, the last of his lightheartedness. He didn’t know the first thing about the kid’s grandpa, and he was absolutely overstepping, but…

“Life is complicated,” he started. “Maybe your grandpa wants you around but thinks it’s not a good idea. The world is dangerous.”

“But my grandpa is really tough! He can beat anyone. I’ll be even stronger than him someday, and I’ll beat up anyone who tries to take my friends from me.”

“It’s not just people who are dangerous. Even the calmest, warmest, most pleasant breeze can bring danger into your life. There is no way to be prepared for what the sea and skies are going to throw at you but protecting someone else is the hardest thing to do in this world. Kids can’t protect themselves, much less another person. They’re not strong enough yet.”

Shanks had seen more than a few kids end up amidst things they had no business in. Being a kid didn’t spare you from death. Being big and tough didn’t spare anyone, either. Any lingering illusion that being strong or powerful would protect him died the second his captain did. But—

“If you want to face the world, then you need to surround yourself with people who can take care of themselves. I did. Best decision I ever made and the best job I could hope for.”

Luffy stared up at him. “What do you do, Shanks?”

“I’m Red-Hair Shanks,” he said with a toothless, thin-lipped smile, “I’m a pirate.”

“A pirate? Those guys are mean, right?”

“Only when I’m sober.”

Luffy tilted his head with an unblinking stare. “I don’t think you’re mean, though. I guess grandpa was wrong.”

Shanks’ smile softened, and his stiff shoulders relaxed. “And maybe he was wrong to leave you here. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you. He probably just wants you safe.”

Luffy straightened his head and closed his eyes. “Grandpa says that when I’m grown up, I’m going to be a marine.”

“Ah.”

“But I don’t wanna be a marine! They don’t get to choose where they go or when they leave. Grandpa’s always gone because he’s a marine and has marine stuff to do. I don’t want to go where someone else tells me to. And I’ll leave when I’m ready. Not before.”

“Where do you want to go?” Shanks asked.

“I…” Luffy said. “I don’t know where I want to go. Anywhere.” He paused, staring off into the distance. “_Anywhere_. As long as it’s fun.”

“And what makes a place fun, in your book?”

“Lots of meat,” he said. Kid didn’t even hesitate.

“Pff… Dahahahahaha! Ah, kid,” Shanks said, thumbing the corner of his eye, “with that attitude, I think you could go anywhere when you’re older. Trust me, there’re so many things to see out there. You’ll love it.”

“Do pirates see a lot of places, Shanks?”

“Oh yeah. The good ones do, anyway. There are some pirates out there who stake out a territory and control it but overseeing a bunch of towns sounds like a hassle. My crew gives me crap already, and we only have one ship. Yasopp got me with the ‘bucket of water on the door’ prank the other day. He wasn’t aiming for me, but he got me anyway. S’what I get for falling asleep in Benn’s room…”

“Are you the captain?” Shanks nodded. “Can’t you make them respect you, if you’re in charge?”

“They do respect me, but they can respect me and have fun with me, too.”

“Grandpa says that kind of stuff is a sign of bad dis… dis-simpleton?”

“Discipline, and that’s a boring marine way to think. Pirates do things the fun way. Life’s too short to be stressed all the time,” Shanks said. He wondered whether his crewmates had found the bar yet. “You can ask my crew what they think of being a pirate, I guess. If they’re drunk already, they’ll be more than happy to share.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Reinvigorated, Luffy jumped to his feet, slipped on the uneven leaves, and barely avoided faceplanting. This didn’t deter him in the slightest from trying to shove the pile of seashells back into Shanks’ arms as _he_ tried to stand, but honestly, if accidentally pricking a tiny hole in his arm made the kid feel better, he’d do it.

“Heading back to town now, right?”

“No,” said Luffy, “we gotta return the seashells first. Or the crabs will be mad at me.”

Shanks didn’t want to deal with that, so he took the lead this time, and they made it back to the ocean quickly. They were standing atop a short cliff, where the wind nearly stole Shanks’ hat off his head. The sun was starting to set, picturesque. Evening really was his favorite time of the day; even stuffy landlubbers relaxed, drank, and made merry when the sun was going down.

“Red sky at night, sailor’s delight,” Shanks recited. He expected Luffy to ask what that was about, but the kid didn’t acknowledge that he said anything. “Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning. My captain used to joke that my red hair meant that every morning would be a disaster and every night would be a riot.”

“Was he right?” Luffy asked as he spun around, coming to a stop. The kid was beaming at him like his teeth were too big for his face. His earlier frustrations could never have existed, with such a smile.

Shanks opened his mouth. Then he closed it. “I guess that depends on who you’d ask… the red hair at night being a delight is definitely true, though. I _am_ a riot.”

Nodding, the kid grabbed a shell from the pile and listened to it. After a moment he pulled it to his mouth and whispered something into it. Then he swung his arm above and behind his head, and with an earnest, childish heave, threw it into the ocean. Poor form, but it got the job done. When Luffy turned around to grab another, Shanks knelt forward a bit, letting him pick which seashell he wanted to release next.

The amount of time he listened to each shell varied. Most were short, but a few took long enough for Luffy’s face to go through an artisan selection of emotions. It was probably just an imaginative kid being a kid. Yet, while Shanks would never admit it, the slight grin he would give each one before the throw reminded Shanks of his captain, whenever he was about to make a particularly baffling decision. Like he had just acquired some information that no one else had.

The orange sunset, seashells, the kid’s smile… it’s no wonder he was thinking of his captain.

Last one to go was the blue shell. Luffy looked serious when he held that one up to his face. Shanks watched as the boy’s eyes misted over and when he barked out a short laugh, as if someone had told him a joke. Then his face rearranged itself into confusion, which Shanks mirrored. With no subtlety whatsoever, he rapidly swapped between listening, looking at Shanks, and whispering into the cavern of the shell. Repeatedly.

To Shanks, it looked like the kid was having an argument.

Eventually Luffy appeared to lose that argument, and he reluctantly padded his scratched-up feet back over to where Shanks stood, handing him the conch shell.

“It wants you to listen one more time,” he stated.

Shanks carefully took the shell, took a deep breath, and tentatively held it up to his ear with both hands.

He felt, more than heard, the cool waves crashing over him. As a pirate, it was a sensation he was very used to, yet the feeling that came over him turned his arms to stone and his legs to jelly. Shanks fell backward, landing flat on the ground. Opening his eyes, Shanks saw the silhouette of Captain Roger, standing over him, laughing at him, but kindly, good-naturedly. He laughed even harder when another wave crashed over Shanks’ face, filling his nose with water, making him gargle and wheeze. The salt burned his nose.

“C’mon, cabin boy,” Captain said, “are you planning to lay on your laurels forever?”

Spitting harshly, Shanks sat up. The sky was a tapestry of warm colors, the sun low enough to cast everything in snugly wrapped shadows. He could hear his captain’s endless laughter and could feel the cold sea brushing up against his waist, sucking the warmth out of him. He could feel sand shift beneath him. He could smell alcohol and ship varnish and the ocean, which, without thinking, he tried to suck into his lungs. Water came with it, but even as he hacked and coughed, he felt strangely good.

Shanks could feel a song he had never heard, one that had never been meant for him, vibrating through the water and the air, up and down his spine. All-encompassing, it pushed and pulled at him, entering through the sand he squished between his toes and fingers and through the wind in his ears. The song caressed his skin, raising the hair on his arms and making him shudder, rippling warm and cold all at once. He wondered how in the hell he had ever missed it.

With a jerk, Shanks pulled the conch shell away from his ear. He had to blink a few times before the image refocused, and the kaleidoscope pieces eventually coalesced into an image of Luffy standing over him, hunched over with his hands on his knees and staring in concern.

“Shanks, are you okay? You just fell over! What did it say!?”

Shanks took a deep breath and was only moderately surprised that his lungs weren’t full of water. His hands had a death grip on the conch shell, and the joints of his fingers were sore as he relaxed his grip.

“It didn’t say anything,” he said, “It just… reminded me of something. Something important.”

Luffy was curious, but Shanks didn’t elaborate, instead handing the shell back over to him. He didn’t bother standing up, elbows resting on his knees.

“It sounds like it’s time for this one to get going. And us too; it’s getting late.”

With Luffy’s back to the setting sun, his face was framed by darkness, and Luffy stared at him with an intensely blank expression. His eyes sunk into Shanks like teeth, inescapable without injury. The kid was too young to make a face like that.

The boy may be too young to understand it, but he knew. He just knew. Shanks was sure of it.

Without a word Luffy took the shell and walked over to the edge of the cliff. He didn’t listen to it or try to talk to it this time, though he did pause, staring out at the ocean. Shanks wondered what he was looking at. What he was thinking about. If he was having second thoughts. There was no way that this kid had any in him.

Winding up like a baseball pitcher, Luffy leaned back, determined to put his entire body into this one. He swung his arm over his head, tossing the shell high into the air. Its blue and green coloring was instantly lost in the eventide colors, and Luffy was instantly lost over the edge of the cliff.

“NGWAH!?” Shanks shouted as he scrambled to his feet. The cliff wasn’t high—kids could probably use this to dive into the ocean—but the boy had flipped heels over head on his way over.

He skidded on his knees, stopping at the edge. Leaning over the ocean, Shanks’ eyes scanned the face of the cliff first, praying to deities he didn’t believe in that the kid hadn’t hit the rock. Finding no red stains, he turned his attention to the water, hoping the boy would bob to the surface and yell at him. He waited until he realized that he needed to breathe before sucking some air and diving in after him, activating his Observation Haki before hitting the water.

Shanks zeroed in on a tiny, struggling light that was being pulled further into the ocean and pushed off a rock with his foot, swimming toward it quickly. He grabbed the back of Luffy’s shirt, pulling the child close to him and securing him in his arms before kicking his way to the surface.

Luffy spit water in his face the second they were above water, not caring where it went, but Shanks didn’t mind. He awkwardly pat the boy on his back the way he’d seen mothers do to their babies, taking comfort in the way Luffy gripped his shoulders.

“S-Shanks,” Luffy wheezed.

“Do you not know how to swim?” Shanks cringed at his own words. Benn often lamented that Shanks, for a swordsman, was like a blunt instrument sometimes.

“I do!” Luffy said between coughs, “I was just surprised. The water hurt.”

“From that height? Probably.” Shanks said. Interestingly, the boy pouted and looked away from him.

_If his relationship with his grandpa is as heated as he implied, then he probably expected a fight_, Shanks thought. He started paddling back to shore: a difficult task when he couldn’t use one of his arms.

He had almost reached the beach when Luffy asked, “Where’d your hat go?”

Shanks slowed. With Observation Haki, Shanks didn’t need to turn his head to search, but it looked a lot less inexplicable when he did. He found his hat back out where Luffy had been, slowly riding the waves away from the island.

“Crap,” he said, picking the kid up to his eye level, “You can make it to the beach from here, right? I need to grab that.”

Luffy’s face paled. “Uh—”

Shanks paused.

“You don’t know how to swim, do you?”

He wasn’t mad that Luffy didn’t tell him. He just needed to know. Luffy’s face turned bright red and he refused to meet his eyes, which was enough confirmation for Shanks.

Shanks shifted the boy behind him, encouraging him to wrap his arms around his neck, and swam toward his hat with long strokes. Luffy tried to bury his face in Shanks’ shoulder blades before realizing that was a terrible idea and settled for pressing his cheek against the back of Shanks’ head. It was novel to literally feel someone pout.

Swimming through the fiery sea was calming. Perhaps the fact that Luffy’s breath was tickling the back of his neck was why he was feeling so giddy. It couldn’t have had anything to do with the adorable puckered-lip expression Luffy gave him when Shanks handed him the soaked hat, and Shanks did not grin when he had to tell the kid to grip less tightly, lest he break the straw. They made it back to shore without any further incident. Unsurprisingly, Luffy was tired, so Shanks didn’t bother setting him back on his feet and opted to carry him back to town.

And that was how Shanks reunited with his crew: sopping wet, with a child in one arm, as his crew asked what had happened to him.

“I made a new friend,” Shanks said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By "sharker-tree board" Luffy was trying to say charcuterie board. Delicious, if expensive.
> 
> Last chapter will be focused on Luffy, I promise! *sweats*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _To Home: (of an animal) to return by instinct to its territory after leaving it_

“How the heck are you _not_ hurt, bro?”

“I scattered like bones in the wind! _Yohohohoho!_”

Laughter was infectious, so Luffy couldn’t help but chuckle. Robin smiled along as she pushed wet hair out of her face.

“Even so,” she said, gathering everyone’s attention, “how do we intend to get out of here?”

They’d fallen into this place. The beach of a new island had given out underneath their feet, making them fall into an underground lake—or through one, as it turned out. Seeing a large, standing pool of water above one’s head was strange. Even if one had the ability to swim, the overwhelming heaviness looming above would make anyone nervous. Luffy was disappointed he couldn’t see any fish from this angle.

Franky lifted his sunglasses, reaching out to poke a small glowing rock embedded in the water. “I guess this is what’s keeping the water suspended?”

“It must be. I can feel some kind of spiritual power from the glowing parts,” Brook said. He was serious, but he didn’t sound _worried_ about it, so Luffy was content to leave it at that. He knelt to pick at the weirdly colored pebbles and rocks embedded in the sandy floor, instead.

Robin hummed, skimming a finger between floating stones.

“I don’t think I can just blast us back up,” Franky said, “I don’t have enough cola. I can’t see any light from the top, so we’re probably a long way down. Better find another way out than get stuck in the middle and drown.”

Luffy couldn’t feel the other half of his crew members with his Haki, either, but he was confident that the only people in danger were the ones with him. And they were _with him_, so obviously they would all be fine; they would find their way back together eventually. They always did. He started piling small stones together, the clacking bouncing off each other in the quiet. The pile was lopsided.

People rarely understood his crew and how they fit together. His crew had a lot of leeway compared to most out on the seas, even among other pirate crews. They worked together well, but they weren’t a team. Teams were rigid and organized, like the Marines. Luffy’s crew was like the ocean itself, wild and chaotic yet a functional and cohesive, living, breathing thing. The only real crime in this world was trying to restrain it.

Luffy cupped his hands, scooping up his stack of dirty, rounded stones. His crewmates looked at him curiously, but Luffy picked one out of the pile and cocked his arm back, bracing his legs. He wound his arm from the shoulder down, twisting it into a tight coil.

“Gum-Gum-“ he said, pausing, trying to come up with a name, “WINDMILL!”

His arm unraveled, spiraling, flinging the rock at the ceiling. As his hand came down, he grabbed a new one, letting his spinning arm become a rapid-fire slingshot. The rocks bounced off the ceiling, ricocheting in every direction.

The water didn’t even ripple when he was done.

“Could you give us a little warning?” Franky said, stepping out of Robin and Brook’s way. His metal body was perfect for shielding his crew from little things like rocks.

“You’re all fine,” Luffy said. His crew was competent enough, and knew him well enough, to not need warnings.

“Perhaps we would be better off looking down than up?” suggested Brook.

“Digging through the sand would be a bad idea. It would almost certainly cave in and suffocate us all,” Robin replied. “Sand isn’t sturdy. A wall would be our best bet.”

They unanimously swiveled their heads around, darkness stretching in every direction. The only sound to be heard, except for their own breathing, was the soft, distant murmur of water flowing back and forth.

“Can’t go up, can’t go down…” said Franky. “Can’t even look around. Let’s just pick a direction.”

Setting off in a light jog, Luffy decided he was going to head the direction of the water noise. Silently, his crew followed.

Blindly stomping across wet sand was an endless trek, made worse by how there was no indication of time passing. Eventually, Brook got bored and pulled out his violin. Declaring the oppressive atmosphere familiar yet inspiring, he began to play a slow, haunting tune that raise goosebumps on Luffy's bare arms. As Brook became more invested in his song, a thin layer of frost crackled across the water above them, radiating from the glowing rocks like translucent lily pads.

“Are you doing this on purpose, Brook?” Robin asked.

“I’m afraid not. It is a novel sight, though, isn’t it! Perhaps this song will be titled, ‘_When the Sky Becomes Ice_!’”

They paused, watching the frost expand until it ran into itself, covering the water above them with a thin skin. The light diffused through the murky ice, making the ceiling glow like a fluorescent light. Behind it, something writhed and formed, casting a shadow over Luffy and his crewmates.

“You seein’ this?” Franky asked, flipping his wrist downward to reveal a gun barrel. He pointed it at the mysterious creature. “Wanna bet this thing is the reason we’re here?”

Luffy pressed his hat down against his head.

The creature in the water floated toward them slowly, placing a webbed hand against the ice to stop its momentum. With its other hand, it used a clawed finger to carefully scratch intricate symbols into the barrier. It wrote boustrophedon, writing left to right before jerking its hand straight down to write right to left and back again. Though scratch marks didn’t lend themselves to intricate, curved motions, the figure nonetheless managed to create a very rounded set of glyphs, as if it had written with a brush instead.

“Oh!” Robin said, stepping forward, “There’s someone that still uses this?”

“Poneglyphs?” Brook asked. His playing slowed, quieter and on edge.

“No,” she said, “though similar. An obscure writing system known as Lonko-Lonko was used by an ancient fishman society and is only known to write their own language.”

The figure, seemingly oblivious to the people beneath it, finished the last glyph with a flourish, and its form scattered like a school of fish, fleeing in every direction and disappearing into the dark. The final note of Brook’s song trailed off, evaporating into nothing.

The ice groaned.

“That’s it?” Luffy said.

“Give me a moment to translate this,” said Robin.

They had nowhere to go, so Luffy flopped onto his back in the chilly sand. Franky, with a marginally larger amount of grace, sat cross-legged next to him, allowing Brook to lean on Franky’s massive shoulder.

With his eyes closed, Luffy could hear the slightest cracking and groaning of the ice above them. It was strained, which didn’t make much sense since the ice wasn’t holding anything up. The water _floated_. But there was no sound from _within_ the water either, which was unnatural. Even tiny puddles had a bright, clear sound to them, temporary as it was, like a sparrow’s song.

“Brook,” Luffy said, “play that song again. I wanna hear it.”

Brook’s afro bounced as his head snapped up, full of more life than the man it was attached to. “If our dear archaeologist doesn’t break my leg for interrupting her!” he said as he once again placed his violin on his shoulder and readied his bow.

Which was unlikely. Robin wasn’t much like Nami and rarely threatened bodily harm for silly antics. Though Luffy supposed if anything would make her, it would be something related to words.

Luffy couldn’t understand the fascination. He understood that it was Robin’s thing, and it was a very dear and important thing to her, so he was never going to ask her to stop reading. He just didn’t get it. Words on a page or a rock were dull and lifeless. Words were scratched and smeared onto a surface, lifeless voids of meaning, which was such a shame when they danced and flew when spoken. Even harsh words had a certain alluring shape.

When Brook started playing, the ice settled back down, calm and in no danger of caving in on them. Robin would have all the time in the world to read those scratches, though he doubted they contained anything important.

While the music was nice, it did little to soothe Luffy’s nerves—he wanted to fight the thing in the water, since it was the only interesting thing they’d seen, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen. Instead he listened to the distant sound of the ocean. It crashed and bubbled, chipping away at continents and rocky outcrops like a tireless old man intent on completing his magnum opus before he died. And yet, despite how careless and powerful the sea was, the sound was rhythmic and calming, like music, or hard work. Though it may only be the virtue of distance, the more Luffy focused on the sound, the more content he became.

Until he realized that it was coming from underneath him, a little to the left.

Luffy lurched forward, vaulting from his back to his hands and knees, and started digging.

“Woah bro, what’s gotten into you?” Franky asked, scooting away.

“There’s a tiny ocean under here,” Luffy said.

“Like a way out?” he asked, “That’s a great find, but we still can’t leave till Robin’s done. Maybe leave it alone for a minute.”

Ignoring him, Luffy shifted around in the dirt, dragging the sand out between his legs like a dog. The deeper he dug, the clearer he could see his breath fog in front of him. Soon the ground’s texture morphed from a moist beach to an overly saturated riverbank, sopping and muddy, yet coarse. Churning the quicksand for a moment, he plunged his arm into the hole, shoulder-deep, and almost passed out from the woozy sensation that followed.

It wasn’t the whole-body numbness he was used to when he fell into seawater; this felt like something was gripping onto his arm with icy claws, sucking the life out of him like a sea-vampire. He seized up involuntarily, making a strangled noise that caused Franky to grab his other shoulder, pulling his whole body off the ground and out of the hole. Clenched in his hand was a very familiar, though filthy, spiny blue shell.

The sound of moving water stopped. Luffy held the shell above his head, staring into its open cavern as if expecting to see another body of water inside it. Instead of finding the source of the noise, the motion shook wet sand off his fingers, which fell into his mouth. Gross.

“Ooh,” Brook said, leaning over Luffy’s shoulder as he spat onto the ground, “I’ve never seen a shell quite that that before. It’s so pretty.”

“Yeah, it’s a pretty _super_ find,” Franky said, “Do you think it does something useful, like a tone dial?”

“No,” said Luffy as he tried to scrape the sand off his tongue with his teeth. Why did everything have to be useful? Why couldn’t things just be fun? Granted, a shell that stopped making noise once he picked it up wasn’t fun so much as annoying, but still. Live and let live. Or not live and let not live, since it wasn’t alive? Do not disturb? Something like that could be applied to this situation, probably.

“I’ve finished my translation,” said a tiny version of Robin’s voice. There was an itty-bitty mouth on a rock next to Franky’s foot. Luffy grinned and spun around, dashing in her direction.

“What’d it say?” he asked. He didn’t actually care what it said—if that mysterious figure wanted to fight with them or party with them, it could tell them itself—but Robin’s voice got all soft when she would test out her translations against her tongue, lips stumbling over themselves in a way they never did when she spoke her own thoughts. Luffy could almost understand the appeal of writing, then, when someone added their distinct, living cadence to it. It made empty words feel full. He bounced on the balls of feet in anticipation.

She cleared her throat, looking back up at the scratch marks.

"_There once was a king from the seabed_  
_who never once knew what he needed._  
_Happiness wouldn’t stay_  
_It kept slipping away_  
_In the end, he just wanted to be dead._

_Then he met a siren—unplanned—_  
_who sang a song so gorgeous and grand_  
_He danced and he cheered_  
_As all others jeered_  
_And he disappeared into the sand_."

“That’s… depressing, I think.” Franky said.

“So like life then,” said Brook, pulling his bow away from the strings. Rather than fall into silence, the ice above them cracked loudly, splitting straight through the limericks, and the glowing rocks went out completely, plunging them into darkness. A torrent of freezing water crashed down on them, sweeping them into a ferocious current. Luffy tumbled ass over head, flopping about like a taut-less rubber band when claws once again plunged into the meat of his arm.

Using all his remaining strength to pull his arm, and whatever was attached, in front of his face, he kicked at it, feeling his foot connect with firm muscle—

“Ow!” said Zoro halfheartedly, pulling Luffy’s face out of the water. His hand around Luffy’s forearm was firm and warm and nothing like ice.

“Eh?” Luffy asked, because really, what other question covered all his bases?

“Don’t ‘eh’ me,” he said, throwing Luffy’s numb arm over his shoulder. He swam toward the beach where Sanji and Usopp were, similarly, pulling Brook and Robin out of the water. Luffy could see Nami and Chopper running down the beach, bringing towels back from the ship. Luffy felt like a sopping, dead weight.

“What happened?”

“Beach gave out underneath us,” Zoro said, “Nami and Chopper were fine, but everyone else got soaked. The rest of us fished you guys out. Dunno what happened to Franky, he seems kind of out of it. But he managed to make it back to shore on his own after a thump on the head.”

Luffy sucked in his bottom lip. Out of the corner of his eye he could feel, but not see, the strangely colored conch shell still in his hand. In the back of his head was buzzing hum, unlike anything he had ever heard before, distorted beyond recognition.

It was a lilting rhythm, one that punched and pounded like a surprisingly pleasant headache. Sort of like a song at the edge of his consciousness that only needed a slight nudge to be found. Luffy felt as if he had forgotten something important, but it also felt like it was right there, with him already. He clenched his hand weakly around the shell. His fingers didn't touch, simply sliding across grains of wet, sticky sand.

“Did you see anyone else?” he asked.

Zoro blinked at him. “Do you think someone set a trap for us?”

“No, I don’t think anyone else is here,” Luffy said. “Let’s just go.”

Zoro stared at him like he just announced that he would trade his straw hat for a marine cap, but he got them to shore safely. From there, they made it back to the ship without incident.

Later that day, Luffy stood next to Brook, hanging towels out to dry. Brook patiently waited as Luffy scrubbed the shell clean with the last towel, humming a peppier version of _When the Sky Becomes Ice_. He supposed Brook was refining the song further.

“Hey Brook, have you ever listened to a seashell?”

“Of course,” he replied. “I think every child who has ever thought of sailing has at least once in their life. Though I haven’t done so in many years.”

“Listen to this one,” Luffy said.

To his credit, Brook neither hesitated nor seemed bewildered by this order. Instead he plucked both the shell and the towel out of Luffy’s hands, listening intently. One would think that reading the expression of a skeleton would be difficult, but Brook was one of the more expressive members of the crew. The shadows on Brook’s face shifted slightly when he listened to something. Brook, like Luffy, was one of the few people who absorbed the sounds he heard as they were, and not how he thought it was or should be. He didn’t listen to the meaning on the surface, but rather to the actual content of the sound.

If anyone heard like Luffy, it would be Brook, right?

“It sounds like an a cappella,” he said confidently. “Like someone singing alone on a mountain top, clear yet deterred by the wind.”

“Oh,” said Luffy.

“Hoping for something nautical, were you?” Brook said. “Most people say it sounds like the ocean, but I never thought so. Too much wind, not enough water. It’s too light to be the ocean. The ocean is full of secrets, and that sound has none. Mystery, perhaps, or wonder, but not secrets.”

While he was still disappointed, Luffy could see where Brook was coming from. He hummed noncommittally.

“I also,” Brook continued, “stole that description from an old crew member. It’s how he described Laboon’s cries, shortly before he started following us, when he was sad about being abandoned by the other whales.” Brook twisted the filthy towel around his bony fingers, dirtying them as if he’d clawed his way out of a grave. “Somehow, it’s both strong and weak to the ear, isn’t it?”

Luffy nodded seriously. “I get it,” he said.

“Still,” Brook continued, “Later on, that lonely a cappella became another part of the songs our crew would play! Truly, a wonderful and unique sound. It’s what gave the Rumbar Pirates our identity, musically, I think, and is something we always sought to regain.”

Luffy grinned, completely able to imagine Brook finding a way to make a joyful song out of Laboon’s cries. Brook’s music could turn any moment into a joyful one. It’s the reason why Brook’s music was the absolute _best_, no contest.

“Thanks Brook!” he said, holding out his hand expectantly. Brook calmly returned the shell to him. “I’m gonna ask what everyone else thinks, too.”

Brook perked up slightly. “Ah, of course! That’s all I had to say, captain. If you want to speak to Franky, then you’d best find him soon; he mumbled something about installing a submarine mode in himself, somehow, and I believe he’s going to be quite busy.”

“Got it!” Luffy said, running off. Brook’s distinct laughter chased him down the hallway.

Franky was, as Brook predicted, gathering materials in his workshop, standing above a pile of various metals like a crime lord passing judgement on his subordinates. It wasn't an inaccurate description.

“Franky!” Luffy said, popping in the door without warning, “Can you listen to this and tell me what you hear?”

“Listen to what?” Franky said as he turned around, revealing a large lump on his head. “That shell again? So was it like a tone dial after all?”

“No. S’just a shell. A weird one.”

“Ah, well. I can do that for you anyway, bro.”

“Thanks!” Luffy said as he stretched onto his toes, shoving the shell in Franky’s face. Franky chuckled as he carefully pinched it between his massive fingers, holding it next to his head. A small ear trumpet popped out, extending to the shell’s open cavern. Franky considered it for a short moment.

“Sounds like steam,” he said.

“Steam,” Luffy parroted.

“Yeah, you know, like from a sea-train back home,” Franky said. “Except far away. Which just means that it’s working properly! Nothing quite like hearing a steam train getting closer and closer.”

“The only trains I’ve ever heard, I’ve been on..."

“Yeah, at the time we all had bigger concerns. Doesn’t leave much time for listenin’ to the little things,” Franky admitted. He smirked at the face Luffy made, dropping the shell back into his hand.

“It’s okay,” Franky said, “it’s a sound I heard a lot as a kid, you know? Tom’s life mission had been to build the sea train, and he made and tested so many different ones. Sometimes Tom would take them for test drives on his own and we’d wait by the window of the workshop for him to come back. We always heard him before we could see him.”

Luffy smiled widely, perfectly able to imagine a young Franky pop his head up from whatever new toy he was fiddling with when he heard it. Of course, Luffy’s image of a child Franky was a lot like the large, metal behemoth he was today, but the spirit was there. He could imagine the fondness, the longing. It was a feeling Luffy had known and heard a lot as a kid.

“What’d you ask for, anyway?” Franky asked. “I doubt you’d want anyone to reminisce about the past.”

“Yeah, no,” Luffy said. “I just think it sounds weird. I wanna see if anyone else hears what I do.”

“I don’t think there’s anyone like you,” Franky said. “But, if you don’t mind, I’ve got some _super_ ideas for upgrades I wanna work on...”

Luffy’s eyes sparkled. “Are you adding more lasers?”

“Always!” Franky said. “I’ll show you when I’m done. But that means I actually gotta work on ‘em, yeah? I’ll talk to you later, bro.”

Luffy cheered as he bolted out of the room.

Luffy understood why Franky and Usopp liked their workshop, but if was pressed about it, it was his least favorite part of the ship. It was just the opposite of what he liked. He liked to sit on the ship’s figurehead and feel the wind by his ears, with nothing but the sky itself above his head. Hearing the birds trill in the distance reminded him that the world was still _alive_ even when they went weeks without an island. But instead of heading toward his favorite seat, once he got to the deck he decided to head toward the stern. As he scaled the steps, he could hear the soft shifting of metal digging into dirt, and he was unsurprised to find Robin tending her flower garden. Fit for a picture, Luffy could see a small part of her hand, gently patting the dirt like a mother comforting her children.

“Robin!” he yelled as he ran up to her, “Can you listen to this?”

“To what?” she said, turning to give him her full attention. She always did. He waved the seashell in front of her face. “Oh, this is what you found in that cavern.”

“Yup!”

She clapped her hands together, courteously trying to remove the worst of the dirt despite knowing Luffy wouldn’t care, and obligingly placed the seashell next to her ear. She listened for much longer than Brook or Franky had and closed her eyes to listen closer, finally gracing him with a single nod, moving the shell to her lap.

“I do believe it sounds like any other seashell,” she said.

“Really?” Luffy asked, surprised.

“Sadly, yes,” Robin said. “When I was younger, I spent a lot of time at the beach listening to seashells, so I know it very well.”

“Why’d you do that?”

For a moment, she just stared at him, as if debating the best way to explain it. It was an expression he got a lot from people. Just not much from Robin, these days.

“When I was a child,” she said, “one of the scholars at Ohara had a book on what he called ‘common ocean lore.’ It was his research notes of universals, or at least common threads, between the various folk tales of different regions of the world.” She looked down at the shell in her lap, wistful. “One ‘universal’ kind of tale was about being able to find a magic seashell on the beach, which would whisk you away to a faraway land. I’d always wanted to find one.”

Luffy remained quiet, staring directly into Robin’s eyes from underneath his hat. The wind blew past them from the east.

Robin’s expression softened, and she gave him a small, barely-there smile. “Of course, I eventually found something much better, so I don’t have any hard feelings about it. I think this shell is quite lovely.”

“You do?”

“I do,” she said, handing the shell back to him gracefully. “It’s quite an unusual color, isn’t it? It looks more like the ocean than it sounds like it. Perhaps it was seeing seashells like this that inspired those old tales, wondering what sort of mystical place could create something so beautiful.”

“Makes sense,” he agreed, since he knew very well that dreams made people say and do all sorts of crazy things.

Robin stood, tossing her garden spade into a small green bucket. She looped the handle over her forearm like a purse, looking no less elegant with the smudges of dirt. Somehow, she never got any on her face.

While he usually ignored such things, Luffy knew when the conversation was over.

“Thanks Robin!” he said.

She chuckled. “Anytime, captain.”

Luffy slid down the banister, not having a set destination but not wanting to stand around. He took a seat on the ship’s railing, alternatively listening to the seashell and to the sound of the wind itself. Thus far, everyone seemed to agree it sounded like air, in some way, which—made sense but didn’t. The sound of the seashell was too deliberate, too consistent. It didn’t sound like anything else from nature. Luffy didn’t think it even sounded like a normal seashell. Its sound was as unique and striking as its appearance, but in a way that was much more difficult to quantify or describe. The sound blended into the wind, certainly, like the way the coloration of the seashell would allow it to be invisible if submerged underwater, but blending in was not the same thing as being. A tiger can blend into the forest, be part of the forest, but a tiger is _nothing_ like a forest.

He poked at one of the shell’s spines with the tip of his middle finger, almost puncturing the skin. Instead he flipped it over, as if it were an animal showing its belly, exposing the source of his frustration to the world. The blue fading to a sea-foam green as it collapsed in on itself looked like a whirlpool, like the one he had almost died to at the very beginning of his adventure. It was a reminder of how dangerous and unpredictable the ocean could be.

Being sucked to the bottom of the ocean and drowning had nothing to do with the feeling of wind in his hair, chapping his lips day by day, yet both were unavoidable realities of the ocean.

Frustrated, he got off the railing and went back inside the ship. Finding Chopper had not been a conscious decision so much as Luffy almost bowled over him in the hallway.

“Hey, watch out!” Chopper shouted as he quivered, hooves clutching a small box of plants and vials to his tiny chest.

“Sorry,” Luffy said. Then, not one one to waste time, he asked “Did you ever listen to seashells as a kid?”

“Listen to seashells?” Chopper asked. “I don’t know what that means.”

Excitedly, Luffy crouched down, knees tucked up to his ears, and held the mystery seashell between them.

“If you listen to this, you can hear… stuff,” Luffy said. “Tell me what you hear!”

“Like an audio version of a Rorschach Test?” Chopper asked as he gently placed his box on the floor. With the nubile grace of both a steady-handed doctor and a deer, he carefully gripped the shell with both hooves, uncertain if there was a wrong way to hold it. “It’s pretty, like blue cotton candy…”

Holding it up to his ear, he could hear… well. Chopper tilted the shell in various directions, trying to manipulate the way it sounded, before getting annoyed and switching which ear he was using.

“It… it sounds like rushing blood.” he settled on tentatively.

“Blood?” Luffy asked. Blood was seen, or felt, or tasted—how the heck did someone hear blood? Dripping onto the ground from an open wound?

“Yeah, when listening through a stethoscope. But the part between the heartbeat.”

“A s’death-ohs-goat?” Luffy asked, imagining the unholy combination of the zombie, a jack-o-lantern, and a goat. He kind of wanted to meet one.

“No, a stethoscope—that cold circle thingy I use to listen to your chest and back, sometimes.”

“Oh!” Luffy said brightly. “What’s that do?”

Chopper stared at him.

“…it lets me hear things better.”

“Can we use it to listen to this, then?”

Chopper looked like he swallowed a lemon.

“No, it needs to be put on skin to work. A seashell is too hard,” he said, reaching into his box. He pulled out his stethoscope, slotting the earpieces into Luffy’s ears. Shifting into a more human-like form, he pressed the diaphragm against his own torso.

It was a novel sound, literally hearing the inside of his crewmate, though Luffy didn’t think it was particularly interesting. It mostly sounded muddy. Thick. There was a sort of wispiness between the thumping, but it was almost completely drowned out by the other… body sounds. It was an auditory mess.

“Neat,” Luffy said, because it was. He pulled the headset off his head roughly, prompting a noise of indignation from Chopper.

“Anyway,” Chopper said, shifting back to his normal form, “it’s a good sound, I think. Means they’re alive.”

But seashells _weren’t_ alive. They were empty houses, full of sadness and longing. A house no one would ever return to.

“…Okay,” he said. Chopper gave him a quizzical look.

“That’s a weird reaction,” he said, stepping closer and looking up at Luffy’s face, hoof on his chin in consideration. “Are you feeling okay? Zoro said you were a little weird after he fished you out of the water.”

“I’m fine!” Luffy said. Chopper stared at him, concerned, and Luffy wanted to reassure him more but knew that anything he said would have the opposite effect. There wasn’t anything wrong, not really, and Luffy’s frustration was irrational. Empty problems lead to empty placation.

Maybe there were more empty sounding things in the world than he thought.

“I’m _fine_,” he repeated. “I just don’t get medicine stuff.”

“Oh,” Chopper said thoughtfully, “Well, it’s a not a perfect dupe of the a heartbeat sound, for what it’s worth. You heard the thumping, right? If I heard a constant stream of noise with no beat, I’d probably start freaking out. I wouldn’t get what’s happening either.”

Luffy grinned, picking Chopper up under his arms.

“But not getting it’s never stopped you. You always figure out what’s wrong.”

“I’m going to be the best doctor ever!” Chopper said, bringing his hoof up in what would be a determined, clenched fist if he had fingers. “Of course I’m going to run into stuff I’ve never seen before. But it’s for everyone’s health. Not figuring it out isn’t an option.”

Luffy pulled Chopper into a hug, probably squeezing a little too hard. Not that Chopper minded. He wrapped his arms around Luffy’s neck, burying his nose into the place where Luffy's jaw met his throat. Chopper was warm, a personal heating pad for both body and soul.

“Thanks,” Luffy said, and he meant so much more than just the hug.

Chopper giddily grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "Anytime, you bastard!" When Luffy put him back on the ground, he grabbed his box and left, smiling widely.

Luffy wandered the ship a bit, turning the shell over and over in his hands. He didn’t get what his crewmates were saying, but that didn’t make what they were hearing wrong. He thought back to where they found the shell. How cold it was. The floating water, beautiful and intimidating. How quiet, until the shell started to make noise. While falling through water hadn’t been a pleasant experience, actually being down in that cavern hadn’t been so bad. It had been calm but new, and just another adventure. Maybe Luffy was looking for something that wasn’t there.

But there had been something there. There had been that weird thing in the water that wrote those poems.

Luffy thought and thought, his face turning tomato red.

“That looks painful,” Sanji said as he walked by, looking at Luffy in a mix of amusement and concern. “What’s with that face?”

“I’m thinking,” Luffy said.

Sanji whistled, lips twitching up at the ends. “Miracles never cease.”

He stopped and leaned against the wall, pulling out a fresh cigarette. Dressed in his standard suit attire, he looked every inch a philosopher, capable of putting thought into things Luffy didn’t even know existed. Sanji was a smart guy, Luffy knew, even if it wasn't one of the reasons he had wanted Sanji as part of his crew.

"Listen to this," Luffy said, pressing the blue seashell into Sanji's hand. Sanji blinked, or Luffy assumed that he had blinked and not winked, eye roving over the shell. Then, with a shrug, he held the shell up to his ear.

In truth, it reminded Sanji of the first meal the old fart had made after they were rescued from that god-forsaken rock. Before the doctors had given them the green light to eat real food again, Zeff had dragged himself out of bed to a nearby kitchen and made maple-glazed salmon for the both of them. Sanji vividly, deliriously, remembered how the sound of sizzling fish had woken him up that night. It had been the first time since their rescue that he truly remembered being conscious, and not just technically alive. He’d fell into more than opened the kitchen door at the end of the hall, but Zeff had just wordlessly nodded his head at a chair.

When Zeff set that plate in front of him and Sanji had taken his first bite, it wasn’t the first—or last—time he’d cried over a meal, but it was the moment he realized that, despite everything up to that point, he was going to become a chef. No matter what happened. That _this_ was the reason he had been kept alive.

He wouldn’t tell Luffy all that, though.

“Figured you’d recognize it captain,” he said instead, “It’s one of the best sounds in the world. It sounds like sizzling meat, doesn’t it?”

Luffy started drooling. Figured.

“That’s _way_ better than sounding like the ocean!” Luffy said.

Sanji held the shell back out to him. “If you take this out of my hands, then I can start dinner.”

Without any hesitation or art, Luffy snatched the shell back out of his hand. Which Sanji had expected. He blew cigarette smoke out of his nose in amusement.

“Dinner in an hour,” he promised. “Why don’t you go see what Usopp thinks of it? I'm sure it'll be entertaining.”

“Okay!” Luffy said, running off with a giddy skip in his step.

Finding Usopp proved to be a bit difficult. Not that Usopp was hiding, but Usopp didn’t stick to one or two places around the ship like most of them. Sometimes he was down below in his workshop with Franky, and sometimes he was up on deck tending his pop greens with Robin. Sometimes he was in the library with Nami, murmuring lowly about things Luffy couldn’t begin to comprehend, and sometimes he was in the infirmary with Chopper, trying to distract him from making medicine to play a game instead.

Usopp, like Luffy, tended to be all over the place. It’s just that normally they were all over the place together.

He quickly got sick of trying to play this one-man game of hide and seek and used his Haki. It turned out that he was in the Aquarium Bar, fiddling with something at the table. That was curious in itself, since Usopp didn’t like working in places with low lighting. Hard to see, he said.

Luffy burst into the room, squinting at the lack of light. Usopp jumped in his seat, looking up at the doorway guiltily. Luffy knew that Usopp’s heart was pounding in anxiety, though why, he couldn’t imagine.

“Usopp!” Luffy said, sliding into the seat next to him, “Whatcha looking at?”

“It’s…” he said, trying to obscure the table with his hands, “it’s nothing!”

On the table sat a notebook and some pens.

"Drawing something?" Luffy asked. It was one of Usopp's many talents.

"Writing, actually," Usopp admitted. "Robin told us about your guys' little adventure earlier. I was copying down the limericks Robin found. I know she probably already has it in her own notes, but..."

"What's a limerick?"

"A type of poem. I felt like I'd heard it before, so I've been rolling it around in my head. But I've got nada. So now I'm writing it down."

"How's that supposed to help?"

Usopp brought his hand to his chin. "You know how sometimes you just get so angry you have to hit something? It's like that, but without the anger. I need it out of me."

"Ah, okay." Luffy said. "Did it help?"

"Not really. It's kind of weird that it has two limericks; normally those things are a one-and-done kind of thing. But these pretty obviously go together. Well, the first one could be a lone poem, I guess."

Usopp picked up his notebook, reading out the first poem. His voice projected much more than Robin's, with the flair of a storyteller.

"_There once was a king from the seabed_  
_who never once knew what he needed._  
_Happiness wouldn’t stay_  
_It kept slipping away_  
_In the end, he just wanted to be dead._"

Luffy frowned. "I don't get it."

Usopp leaned back in his chair, granting Luffy a soft smile. "No, you wouldn't. You always know what you want and have no problems chasing it. But I guess the king of the seabed was kind of like Vivi? Working so hard to make things better, but unable to figure it out on their own. Life is hard and complicated."

"I guess."

"But that's just a story of a life unfulfilled, if it ended there," Usopp said. "It's the second poem that really bothers me."

Usopp turned back to his notebook, eyebrows furrowed in almost comical concentration.

“_Then he met a siren—unplanned—_  
_who sang a song so gorgeous and grand  
_ _He danced and he cheered_  
_As all others jeered_  
_And he disappeared into the sand._”

Luffy perked up. "That part sounds way better."

"That also sounds a lot like you. Dancing and cheering even as others mock you... it's, like, textbook you buddy." Usopp said. "But '_he disappeared into the sand_?' I get the idea that a chance meeting made him happier, but I don't like the implication that his happiness meant that he _had_ to leave home forever."

They were both quiet for a moment, letting the words sink in.

"I dunno," Luffy said, tilting his head. "Everyone else was making fun of him, right? So why not find happiness somewhere else. You left home with us cuz you wanted to get stronger, right? Same thing."

"But he _disappeared._ He probably _died_."

"So? He was unhappy and made a choice. Even if he died, he was following his dream. So are we."

Usopp stared at him. "I can't believe you're making sense."

"I always make sense!"

"You're right. But, with the way it's worded... it feels like he was chasing after... an empty hope. It's not like he sought out the siren, it was 'unplanned'."

"I never plan," Luffy said. "It works!"

"For you maybe, and monsters like you," Usopp said with a sigh. One part fond, one part frustrated. He leaned against the table. "It's just the lack of closure that bothers me."

"The what?"

"We don't know what happened to him," Usopp said. "Did he meet the siren? Did they live a happy life together? Did she eat him? Was it all a lie, and did he die alone and forgotten?" He shuddered, glancing back down at his notebook.

Breathing in slowly, Luffy wrapped both hands around the seashell in his lap.

"I don't know if he's dead," Luffy said, "But he's definitely not forgotten. We know his story, even if we had to fall into a hole to hear it."

Usopp looked up at him, head tilted. Luffy looked back at him, face serious.

"And nobody's going to forget about _us_, either. We're too awesome!"

Usopp stared for a moment before sucking in air between his teeth, puffing up his chest. His nose pointed up in the air dramatically.

"Of course we are! Stories about me are already being told by millions around the world! Why, even the wind is telling the world about the adventures of God Usopp!"

Luffy chuckled. Of course the whole world knew about him, all of them. He knew they'd be amazing, and that people would know all of their names. Even if they had never met them face-to-face.

"Hey Usopp," Luffy said, "Can you listen to this?"

Usopp blinked at him before registering what Luffy had in his hand. "Does it make a weird noise?" he said as he gently picked it out of Luffy's hand.

"Not really, but yeah," Luffy said unhelpfully. "Tell me what you hear."

Usopp took a moment to inspect the shell itself, gently trailing his fingers across its surface, carefully maneuvering between the spines. His fingertips glided like a skipping rock across the water, never staying in place but always moving with purpose. Where blue faded to green, he traced the lip of the opening from top to bottom, tilting the shell in various ways to peer inside of it. Always looking before he leaps.

Him actually putting the shell to his ear was anticlimactic, though.

Usopp stared at nothing as he listened. His face went through a variety of expressions, from biting his lip nervously to earnest contemplation and appreciation. From time to time his head bobbed, and he smirked a couple times before going back to a neutral expression. Occasionally, briefly, his eyes would flick to Luffy before darting away again, not wanting to be distracted.

When he was done, he handed the seashell back over, eyes tight and serious.

"It sounds like a crowd cheering," Usopp said. He punctuated this statement with a sage nod, as if he was imparting an important piece of life advice.

Luffy stared at him curiously, wondering if that was it. As he stared, Usopp fidgeted, and it didn't take long for his cool façade to break. His head dipped down nervously, drumming his fingers on the table.

"At a distance," he said. "I'm a sniper. So I'm at my best when I'm shooting something from far away. But, uh, just because I'm far away from the action doesn't mean that no one is rooting for me, or believing in me. Even if I can't see them. So it sounds like a crowd cheering at a distance."

Luffy's grin grew, and he put a hand on Usopp's shoulder. "And all those people will tell stories about you. They're not gonna forget anytime soon."

Usopp sighed. "I just prefer having the _ability_ to go back home. And I like telling my own stories," he admitted.

Luffy's hand squeezed gently. "You can."

They smiled at each other softly, and Usopp, gratefully, resolved to create a third limerick for the story in order to tie up the loose ends. He certainly didn't need Luffy's help for that. Usopp muttered, testing out words and rhymes as he leaned low over his notebook. Luffy slipped out the door.

Next on his quest to ask everyone, he decided to find Nami. She was in the library, a terrifying and holy place that Luffy rarely dared to enter. But there she was, sitting at the desk in the center, hunched over and deeply focused. Her quill skittered across the page, like bugs tittering in a forest. Simple and familiar.

“Nami,” Luffy said quietly. Quietly for him, at least.

The skittering stopped, and Nami’s head popped up. She set down her pen before turning to face him.

“Woah, is something wrong?” Her chair squeaked as she stood.

“Nothing’s wrong. Can you listen to this?.”

Nami stared at the seashell, a tiny frown forming on her face.

“Seashells sound like the ocean. Everyone knows that. It’s a childish thing to do.”

“So? I'm asking everyone. Just listen to it."

Nami sighed, put-upon, but relented and brought the shell up to her head. Her eyes rolled up to the ceiling as she listened.

“It sounds like the ocean,” said Nami. “Most shells do.”

“Listen again,” Luffy insisted.

Nami rubbed her thumb between two of the shell’s spines as if she was rubbing behind Chopper’s ear, gentle. For a moment it seemed she was going to argue with him but, deciding it wasn’t worth it, she held it up to her ear again.

“…it sounds like the ocean,” she insisted. “It sounds like a day where we’re relaxing on the Sunny and there’s a slight breeze to keep us all cool in the sun. Where the waves are gentle, and I can sit out on the deck and touch up one of my maps without worrying about my paperweights sliding off the corners.” She pulled the shell away from her ear, dropping it back into his hands. “A day where I ask Sanji to make a drink for me and Robin out of tangerines and you guys are out having fun on the deck but aren’t in danger of knocking over my table while I work. A day where I can walk to the railing to stretch and look down and see fish that we can catch for dinner. It’s soft and ocean-y. That’s what it sounds like.”

Luffy blinked at her.

"Yeah," He said dazedly, holding his hand out. Nami placed it onto his palm gently, frowning.

"Sorry for not having a more interesting answer, I guess" Nami said.

Luffy grinned. "No, it was a great answer! Thanks!"

Nami grinned like a cat, self-satisfied, waving her hand back toward the door. "Glad to hear it. But if you're done, I've got work to do and I don't trust you in here, so..."

"Got it!" Luffy said, flouncing out of the room. "See you later!"

And with that, there was only one person left to ask. He knew exactly where Zoro would be and what he would be doing, and that would be sitting on the deck's grass, leaning against a railing, polishing one of his swords. Maybe the white one, that one always seemed to get extra attention.

There was no acknowledgement as Luffy padded up to him, but Luffy didn't need to be told not to interrupt. He sat down next to him, letting the seashell rest in his lap as he watched Zoro ritualistically clean and polish a sword. His motions were smooth and practiced, equal parts mercenary and artisan. It's something he had done a thousand times and, with much skill and some luck, would do a thousand more. Luffy himself tended to get bored easily, but while he knew he would never have to patience to do something like this, every time Zoro did this looked like the first time, attentive at every step.

"Luffy."

Luffy blinked, looking up at Zoro's face. Zoro continued to stare at his work, eyes trained forward. Not at all like he was starting a conversation. The black sheen of the blade reflected in his eye like a dark highlight. Sliding the sword back into its scabbard, he inclined his head toward Luffy.

"You've been running around for a while. Got something to ask me, too?"

"Yep!" Luffy said. "I want everyone's opinion on this." He handed the shell to Zoro expectantly, not elaborating on the what or the why.

Zoro listened to the shell intently, with a sincerity most wouldn't expect. Even if listening to seashells was "childish," as Nami had put it, Zoro would never deny him anything. He would take it as seriously as anything else Luffy asked him to do. He frowned harder than usual, and Luffy sat next to him, uncharacteristically still.

“It sounds like the Sunny,” he settled on, handing the shell back to him. Then Zoro turned toward the sky, crossing his arms behind his head. “And like you. It never stops moving. Bobbing about or rushing around. Nothing real specific, though.”

Luffy tilted his head. This answer pleased him, but it didn't really warrant a response. Instead Luffy rocked in place, counter to the movement of the waves. Zoro was right. Every member of his crew was right, in their own way. Luffy looked up, trying to follow Zoro's gaze, staring at the yellow-orange and purple clouds. The sun was going down. The sky, limited by his vision and limitless without him, didn't look much different from the ocean, sometimes.

“What do you hear, captain?” Zoro said. It was gruff, as most things he said were, but underneath it was a sincere curiosity.

In all honesty, Luffy hadn’t expected to be asked. He held the shell up to his ear, though it’s not like he hadn’t heard it all before.

“It sounds like… the ocean!” he said, full of conviction.

“What? You wouldn’t have asked us if it was that simple,” Zoro said.

Luffy sucked in his bottom lip, thinking. Thinking and explaining weren’t his strong suits, he knew. But more often than not, Zoro just _got it_.

To Luffy it sounded like a lot of things. The wind, maybe. The water too. He could hear the Lord of the Coast biting off Shanks’ arm, and he could hear the sheer glee in the voices of his crew reuniting at Sabaody. He could hear Makino’s voice whispering lullabies about distant seas to him to lull him to sleep, and he could hear the shrieking seagulls waking him up from a nap on the Sunny’s figurehead. But more than anything else, he could hear the siren’s promise of happiness, and he could hear the king from the seabed’s relief at finding it.

“It sounds like the ocean, “ Luffy said slowly, “The one people dream of. Not the real thing. The way they think it'll be.”

Zoro considered this, staring at the sky. "...is that a bad thing?" he asked.

"No," Luffy said. "A dream is just an empty promise until it happens. But they're really nice. They sound nice."

He lifted the shell over his head with one hand, examining the way the sun reflected off it. It shone like the sea itself, effervescent and untouchable. There was something about it that made him never want to let go, wanting to cradle it and keep it all to himself.

Zoro looked at him, considering. “Sounds interesting,” he said.

Luffy thought about it. Then he nodded.

“Sounds _exciting_,” he corrected. He didn’t do that to his crewmates very often.

Luffy stood, turning around and placing one hand on the Sunny’s railing. The sun was going down, turning the sea red. How many people had seen the ocean like this, bloody and boozy like wine, and how many more would do so after Luffy?

Zoro snorted. “Well, we hear the ocean all the time. The real thing. You don’t need that, do you?”

Luffy grinned, letting the wind do the work of pushing his hat out of his eyes. “_Nah!_” he said as he wound up and threw the seashell toward the horizon. It disappeared into the froth and foam, and Luffy stayed right where he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Total number of words in this chapter: 8741. Total Number of words I wrote that DIDN'T make it into this chapter: 548,774. This was a rough chapter to write, and there are parts of it I think are still crap and parts of it I think are great, but sometimes you just have to finish something, y'know? Sorry it took so long.
> 
> A big thanks to everyone who read this until the end. I would like to give a special shoutout to [Harmonica_Smile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rescue_Remedy/pseuds/Harmonica_Smile), without whom this almost certainly would have taken even longer.


End file.
